Shirin Tabeshfar in her studio. © The Artist.
I’m drawn to the tension between spontaneity and structure, between chaos and calm. That balance, that moment when freedom meets order, is what I want to express...
– Shirin Tabeshfar, 2025
Eastwood Fine Art: Over time, your work has oscillated between abstract compositions and figurative subject matter. Most recently, you have returned to abstraction. What has prompted this new body of work?
Shirin Tabeshfar: I’ve always moved between figuration and abstraction. Even in my figurative work, abstraction is present in rhythm, movement, and composition. When I was a student, the two were often seen as opposites, but I never believed in that division; it’s one palette, one canvas, one language.
My recent figurative paintings were inspired by my twin daughters, their closeness, individuality, and energy. Through them, I wanted to explore the feminine presence in society, expressing both strength and subtlety, connection and independence. The figures often appear and fade, like traces of memory or emotion, reflecting both intimacy and individuality.
This also connects to Rumi and the Sufi whirling dervishes, whose turning toward light and sense of spiritual stillness deeply inspire me. The whiteness of their garments has found its way into my figurative work, as a symbol of purity, rhythm, and presence.
Returning to abstraction feels like a natural continuation of that exploration. I love the playfulness and surprise, when colours, shapes, and textures move together unexpectedly. I’m drawn to the tension between spontaneity and structure, between chaos and calm. That balance, that moment when freedom meets order, is what I want to express.
EFA: You studied at the Behzad School of Fine Art, before moving to study in Bristol and the Bath Academy of Art. Tell us about your training, and are there elements from that time that continue to inform your practice today?
ST: I studied at the Behzad School of Fine Art in Tehran before the revolution. It was a very progressive time in Iran and an incredible place to study. It was the best art school in Tehran at the time.
Technically, we learned everything: oil painting, copying classical masterpieces, watercolour, drawing, sculpture, Persian miniature painting, Persian calligraphy, and so on. I was particularly skilled in Persian miniature, which might seem surprising given how abstract my work has become. That experience connected me deeply with Sufism and Persian poetry, and that sense of spirituality and balance still echoes in my work today.
Many of our teachers were avant-garde artists trained in France, and they encouraged us to go beyond technique, trust our instincts, and break the rules. It was in that environment that I began experimenting with abstraction and even early installation work.
After that, I came to the UK and completed a two-year course, combining History of Art A-Level with a foundation course, which led me to decide to pursue a BA in Graphic Design at the Bath Academy of Art. I then continued my studies in London at the University of West London. Graphic Design definitely helped me to understand composition and structure, and is something that still influences my work today.
I also explored photography for a time, doing portrait work, including photographing many well-known figures. While I enjoyed it very much, I realised that the technical side of photography wasn’t for me, I’ve always been more drawn to the freedom of painting.
Painting has always been my first love. Looking back, I can see that everything I studied, both in Tehran and here in the UK, has stayed with me. Perhaps originally my heart was more drawn to the spirituality of the East, while studying in the West taught me structure and composition. The combination of East and West is what has made my work today.
EFA: Both colour and texture are central to your compositions. Have these latest developments in turn, affected your approach to painting?
ST: Not really, my approach hasn’t changed, but perhaps it’s become more intuitive and focused. Whether I’m working figuratively or abstractly, I still think of the painting as a whole, colour, texture, and form working together as one living surface.
Even when a figure appears, it’s never separate from the space around it; it grows out of layers of colour and gesture. I often build texture slowly, almost like breathing, adding, removing, allowing traces of earlier marks to remain, so that each painting carries a sense of time and movement within it.
If anything, these recent developments have deepened my awareness of silence within colour, the way a soft tone or a quiet texture can hold as much emotion as a bold gesture. There’s something meditative about that process. It reminds me of the Sufi idea of turning inward, of finding harmony through repetition and rhythm. Painting, for me, has become less about depicting and more about listening, allowing the surface to reveal what it wants to become.
EFA: Have you had any recent experiences that have given a new perspective to your day-to-day work?
ST: A few months ago, while I was in Paris for my own solo show, I visited the Pinault Collection and saw Georg Baselitz's Avignon series with the upside-down figures. I’ve always loved his work, and I hadn’t realised it was part of the exhibition, so it was a wonderful surprise. Seeing it in person reminded me of the power of scale. These iconic paintings, depicting inverted figures, achieve a form of abstraction while maintaining figuration.
Seeing it in person reminded me of the tension between figure and abstraction; moments like that stay with me in the studio and renew my excitement about painting.
EFA: Is there anything you cannot be without in your studio?
ST: Apart from all the essentials, I absolutely can’t do without gloves. I make such a mess that anything not covered ends up painted! Music is a close second; it’s what keeps my energy flowing while I work.
EFA: You are showing two newly made paintings for this edition of SPOTLIGHT. Tell us about these works.
ST: The paintings are titled Waking I and Waking II. They carry a sense of light, hope, and renewal, with a quiet, meditative quality. The works are built from organic shapes —messy, playful dots that don’t directly resemble anything. The repetition of the dots gives a sense of rhythm and spirituality, while the light palette conveys strength, calm, and a meditative presence.
They also reimagine fragments of my childhood mornings, the happiness and quiet of early light, remembered rather than seen. These works reflect my love of simplicity, open space, and the spiritual resonance of colour and form.